


the Stadium

by Anonymous



Category: College Football RPF
Genre: Bama, Baton Rouge, Coaches, College Football, LSU, M/M, Sec, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A meeting between two coaches, two worlds, after an LSU - Bama game.





	the Stadium

Death Valley. A cold, gray stone monument to excess that has long plauged the human spirit. On a campus of underpaid teachers and underfunded programs, the exorbitant structure imposed on the landscape, leaving almost everything else in its massive shadow. Excess. The theme of the night. If you've already scored 38 points on a team with no points to their name, what good is it to score 16 more? Nick Saban didn't want to just defeat his opponents. He wanted to crush them. Humiliate them. Break the will and spirit of every coach, coordinater, player and fan of any team that dare oppose the Tide. Nothing was too far, and nothing was ever enough. And after a blowout win, he wouldn't even smile. He showed no joy or excitement. Just another name to check off the list.  
It had been long since games had excited him. Now, it was just a mechanical function. Each decision, each call, each play was just an extension of the most basic and animalistic part of his brain. No shutout win could excite him anymore, but he still craved more. He had nothing to prove, but he no longer knew anything else.  
He took quiet, calculated strides through the halls of the building. The game was long over, and the players and band were heading towards the busses, but something had called him to stay. The stadium was the ending place of the pilgremmage of thousands of fans each Saturday, where something as minute as some college kids playing a game became everything, defining the world of seas of people. Was it a distraction from real life? Did a concrete 'real life' even exist? It's another ritual, another product of the fanatacism that has always been part of the core of what mankind is. This stadium had represented all that and more, and yet he, just a man, had defeated it. It wasn't the first time, and it likely wouldn't be the last. But it was fascinating every time, how his choices that seemed second nature to him by now, and still they could make this almost feverently religious place go dead quiet within an hour. It was enough to make a man go mad, but it still wasn't enough. There was no enough.  
He had started to time the echoes of his footsteps in the dark and musty hall. They were uniform, like most everything else in his life. He had fallen in love with football for its unpredictability, it's volatility. But he had come and brought to it that same uniformity, same brand of morbid consistency that ran the rest of his life. He had brought to what he loved what he was trying to escape. But he felt nothing.  
He heard something off-beat. Something untimed, organically chaotic. More footsteps, but more in the pattern of a freeform jazz beat than the metronome-like strides Saban took. But there was a familiarity to that chaos, maybe even a nostalgia.  
"Ed." His monotone voice rang through the shadows, piercing the thick air and bringing a stop to the footsteps.  
A gravely voice responded. "I see yoh still heyuh. Yeuhv taken ahl I hahd, whyre yoh still in my houhs? Thehs Noth'n left, do yeuh jus steh t'taunt me?"  
Most wouldn't be able to make sense of those sentences, but Saban knew that voice well. "You lost, Ed. I'll go where I please. I can control every stadium in this region, in this sport, like air conditioning settings in a new apartment. I don't need a reason, so quit asking".  
Orgeron had spent his youth near this town, this stadium. He'd worked for years to call this campus home. This was his team, his stadium, wins or losses be damned. In a fit of rage, he swung at the shorter coach.  
It connected with Saban's jaw, knocking him back just a bit. Now this, he hadn't predicted. This was what he was missing. Orgeron swung at him again, but this time, Saban saw it coming and caught him at the wrist, as he backed him up to a wall. "Finally, something unexpected".

Unexpected? Is that what he's wanted, all this time? "I'll shoh yoh unespctehd" the purple-wearing man muttered. With his free hand, he made a move towards the championship coach and grabbed his thigh. But to his suprise, the man didn't back away or flinch with suprise. Instead, he moved in closer, breathing up Oregeron's neck and biting, puncturing the skin to leave a lasting mark. His mark. He kissed him in a short but rough, carefully placed spurt, and moved off him.  
He walked towards the exit and didn't even look back as he said, "I have a bus to catch. Until next year, O. Don't dissapoint me."


End file.
